Dream

Robb’s eyes fluttered open and he squinted at you, the sight of his messy auburn curls making your chest all warm.

“What time is it?” he rasped out and you shrugged.

“Early. It’s rather rude of him, is it not? He ignored her in front of everyone when they first got here. And then at the feast too.”

“Why are you—”

“And not only did he ignore her, he also humiliated her at the feast, in front of people!” you insisted. “Does he not like her at all, do you think?”

“You woke up at this hour to gossip?”

“We barely talked last night,” you whined, your shoulders dropping in defeat while he smirked.

“We were too busy to talk.”

“But I wanted to talk!” you insisted. “And now that you’re awake—”

“I’m not awake.” He threw his arm around your torso to pull you to his chest, coaxing a giggle out of you as you propped yourself up on your elbows.

“Is it not strange?” you asked. “I mean when they wed, everyone agreed that she was the most—” You shook him, making him groan again. “Robb, I don’t think you’re listening!”

“Gods be good…”

“Has your father said anything about them?”

“No.”

“How come you—” A squeal escaped you when he squeezed your butt still half asleep, but you reached back to grab his wrist. “Not now, focus! Why didn’t you ask?”

“Why would I ask?”

You rolled your eyes.

“I swear I will never understand men,” you grumbled. “How are you not curious? He doesn’t like her, it’s very surprising.”

“Is it?” he asked with a yawn and opened his eyes, then ran a hand over his face as if trying to get rid of the haze of sleep. “Of course he doesn’t like her, she’s not pleasant at all.”

“Maybe not to other people, but she probably was pleasant to him at least at first,” you said. “She must have tried. There is no way she did not.”

“I suppose sometimes it just doesn’t work.”

“Her family is powerful,” you insisted, counting with your fingers, “she’s beautiful, educated, fashionable—”

A chuckle escaped him. “I don’t think the king cares much about fashion.”  

“It helps still,” you commented. “I don’t know, the realm thinks she’s everything a queen is expected to be. And they have three children together, one would assume…”

“Hm?”

“How did he not eventually fall in love with her?”

He folded an arm under his head. “Maybe his love for Aunt Lyanna does not let him love anyone else.”

“It is rather odd, how every man has a different reaction to being left behind,” you muttered, heaving a sigh as you rested your chin on his chest, absentmindedly tracing his muscles. “The king wed and fathered children, but he still loves your aunt. And my father never recovered after my mother. No mistresses or wife, even though everyone kept pressuring him. It makes me wonder what she would think. Or what your aunt would think had she lived.”

If you hadn’t been so lost in your own thoughts, you would’ve noticed the silence falling upon the room, or his body tensing up.

“I guess there’s a reason why so many love ballads are sad,” you mused. “Heartbreak one way or another. That might be the one thing years cannot take away.”

He was so quiet that for half a minute you were convinced he had fallen asleep again. Yet, his deep voice that rumbled in his chest and vibrated underneath your palm didn’t sound sleepy at all when he finally spoke, the stern command almost taking you by surprise.

“You’re not allowed to do that.”

You lifted your head to blink up at him.

“Do what?”

“You’re not allowed to die before me.”   

You couldn’t stop your chortle. “Robb…”

“I’m serious. You cannot.”

“When it comes to longevity, the gods seem to favor men more,” you couldn’t help but point out. “Men die in battle in wartime. Women die in childbirth regardless of war or peace.”

His eyes found yours.

“Is that what you fear?” he asked quietly and you pinched your lips, trying to pick the right words.

“I don’t think fear is the right word for it,” you ended up saying. “I’m no fool, I know what happened to my mother was largely related to the very short time between the twins’ birth and mine.”

Silas and Arys had told you that. Upon hearing your septa talking about how motherhood came with a price and the childbirth was the ultimate sacrifice, Silas had said fuck off to her face, making you burst into laughter even with the fear churning your stomach.

“My sister will not be sacrificed just so that some prick somewhere can have an heir,” Silas had spat. “And she will be educated to minimize the danger. Stop filling her head with nonsense, unless you want my father to release you of your duties.”

Arys had been the one to tell you all about it; how it was of importance that one’s body was given enough time to rest.

“When you wed,” he had told you, “you’ll have many herbs at your disposal. We’re not letting you wed anyone who you might not like, but regardless of how much you might like your future husband, you are putting your own health first. Always. No babe is more important than you, and you’re not making the same mistake mother and father did. You will only have kids when you’re ready, and they will have at least 3 years between them, not like us.”

“We won’t…” Robb started, then paused and shook his head. “I would never put you through that.”

Nor were you going to put yourself through that. You were going to be very careful and take nothing for granted, because you knew how it went for your mother; she’d had such easy childbirths until you, and each time she had bounced back so fast that both she and your father were convinced nothing bad would happen.

So the gods had decided to prove to them otherwise.

“No,” you said in an attempt to sound more confident than you felt, willing yourself not to think about Arrana’s bad wish. “It won’t be like that for me.”

But there was still that danger.

Even if you did everything right, there was still that danger, for you and for every woman in the realm.

However, Robb was never going to hear that from you, not even with a blade to your throat. He wasn’t going to hear that, your own family wasn’t going to hear that, none of the Starks were going to hear that, none of your ladies-in-waiting or your maids were going to hear that.

The only person whom you had shared those concerns with was Margaery, and it was going to stay that way.

“Nothing bad is going to happen to me,” you added, desperate to disperse the gloomy air that felt almost suffocating around you. “Besides, no use worrying about any of that, only the gods know these things. Look at your own mother, she’s very healthy and she’s had five children so far—”

He pulled his brows together, confusion snapping him out of his own thoughts. “So far?”

Of course it worked.

“Well yes.” You shrugged your shoulders. “So far. You never know, they’re both still young—”

From the grimace twisting his handsome face, one would’ve thought you had spoken of something utterly unacceptable.

“Seven hells, don’t say that!”

A burst of laughter escaped you. “Robb, my love, I don’t know how to tell you this, but the fact that you have four other siblings—”

“That happened in the past!”

“Rickon is still little,” you argued. “And your mother and father are in love, anyone could see that. It’s normal!”

“It’s not normal,” he said, still grimacing while he motioned at the door. “He loves her from…from afar.”

“Mm, from up close. Very close, I’d say, because five kids is no duty—”

“From a respectable distance.”

“No to that also.”

He made a noise of disgust. “Can we stop talking about this? They’re too old to have a babe.”

“They’re not too old.”

“Fine, I’m too old to have a sibling,” he said, your laughter bouncing off the walls. “And I refuse to believe they would betray me like that.”

“Oh, such betrayal,” you said in an exaggerated manner, a hand on your chest. “Disaster, if you will.”

“Aye, it would be.”

You rolled your eyes at him while his gaze darted over your face, a frown pinching his forehead again.

“But you’ll be—” He swallowed thickly. “You’ll be fine, when…” 

He didn’t need to finish his sentence, you knew exactly what he was referring to. You turned your bracelet around your wrist, heaving a dramatic sigh.

“How about this?” you said. “You give me your word that you won’t die in war, and I’ll give you my word that nothing will happen to me in childbirth. That’s called diplomacy, if you’re too northern to recognize such concept.”

That managed to make him huff out a chuckle, though the haunted look in his eyes didn’t disappear, not completely. He nodded after a beat, reaching out to cradle your cheek in his palm.

“Very well,” he said. “I give you my word. Do you?”

You lifted yourself a little to brush your lips against his, his hand slipping from your cheek to the side of your neck. His other arm snaked around your waist to press you to his body, butterflies erupting in your stomach.

“I do,” you said, a smile warming your face. “See? Who said the north and the south can’t negotiate?”

All your ladies-in-waiting agreed that the queen had to have grown bitter in time, perhaps because of her husband, perhaps because of her responsibilities, and perhaps because she had fewer admirers now than when she first wed the king. You didn’t know the reason, nor did you say too much out loud, but you were more than aware that she did not look happy at any time, with the exception of when she was talking to her brother.

Well, one of them, at least. Her other brother, Tyrion had arrived in Winterfell nearing the end of last night’s feast, having spent the whole day in a brothel in Wintertown, so if you had to guess, he was going to get along well with Theon.

Robb was busy throughout the afternoon, and so were you. While he went on a hunt with his father and the king, you and some of your ladies-in-waiting were tasked with taking baskets of food and herbs to Wintertown per Lady Stark’s orders. As much as you liked going to Wintertown, you still wondered whether there were no servants left in the castle to do this exact task, but you managed to keep your mouth shut.

She was probably making sure everyone in Wintertown had seen you and talked to you, and this was a good way to make sure of that.

Or perhaps she was trying to keep you out of the queen’s sight after that little exchange of yours the other night, that could’ve been the reason as well.

Alys, Lyra and Wylla had gone into the other street, leaving you with Barbrey and Jorelle. It had taken you a much shorter time to give the baskets to all the houses you were supposed to visit, so now you were waiting for the others while you explored the market, making small talk with vendors as Barbrey and Jorelle trailed after you. This was yet another instance that you couldn’t help but note was different in here, because back in the south, the vendors sold many different types of jewelry seeing that it was popular among noble ladies. In the north, rather than jewelry, women embroidered their gowns with beads and intricate pieces of bronze, copper and ivory.

Perhaps you could use some of those on your cloaks at least.

“…And my cousin will visit Winterfell with her lord husband, and she’ll die when she sees me,” Barbrey chattered. “I doubt she believed me when I wrote to her to tell her I’m a lady-in-waiting. I’m planning to get a new gown and embroider it by the time she visits, she’ll be so jealous!”

You accidentally exchanged glances with Jorelle who looked like she was trying her hardest to keep herself from rolling her eyes at Barbrey.

“Her wedding was two years ago, and she had the audacity to criticize what I wore to it. And let me tell you, her wedding gown wasn’t so impressive either! Her lord husband is of House Flint, and her gown had eyes all over it, it looked so weird.”

You raised your brows. “Her gown had eyes?”

“House Flint’s words are Ever Vigilant,” Jorelle explained, “and their banner has a pair of eyes on it.”

“And it looked like she was wearing the banner itself,” Barbrey added. “Let’s see whose gown is better now. And also, if I may, I’m sure I’ll make a better marriage now that I’m—”

“Barbrey, did you see that vendor over there?” Jorelle cut her off. “I think they have more colorful beads over there, they’d look good on your purple gown.”

“You’re right!” Barbrey gasped. “My lady, may I—?”

“Please go ahead,” you said a bit quicker than intended, but Barbrey was too excited to notice that. She rushed to the stall Jorelle was pointing at, and Jorelle let out a breath.

“There. Some peace and quiet.”

You bit back a smile. “Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it.”

 You sometimes wondered whether you would’ve been able to get along well with Jorelle if it weren’t for her family and her whole almost betrothal with Robb. She probably held some resentment for you, and you still felt rather threatened by her. Despite that, sometimes she reminded you of Margaery with the calm air around her that made it nearly impossible to see through her, but you cast the thought away from your mind, forcing yourself to look at the beads on the tray.

“These look nice,” you commented as you approached the counter. “Are you good at embroidery, Jorelle?”

She shrugged her shoulders. “Not my absolute favorite, but yes.”

“What is your absolute favorite?”

“I like riding.”

Right.

Of course she liked riding.

“So do I,” you said, taking a couple of bronze pieces into your palm to inspect them. “Silk is faster than my horses back in the Reach, but I’m getting used to such speed.”

“Your brother gifted her to you, did he not?”

“Yes. Cliff.”

She stole a look at you.

“And you’re close with all your brothers?”

“Mm hm. Well, Silas is the one I’m closest with, and then the twins. Arys and Cliff left home quite early, so I see them very rarely. Mostly on my namedays and such.” You lifted your gaze from the pieces in your hand. “I think you’ve talked to Perceon?”

Jorelle blinked a couple of times, her cheeks betraying her nonchalant demeanor when they turned pink.

“Yes,” she said, making herself busy with the beads. “He was—he is very southern.”

“Dornish, more like.”

 A silence fell upon you and Jorelle nibbled on her lip, her eyes falling on Barbrey before turning to you.

“Can I ask you something?”

You put the bronze pieces back and grabbed a particularly shiny bead. “Of course.”

“Why did you…” she trailed off. “Why did you choose her to be among your ladies-in-waiting? After what Arrana has said?”

That question wasn’t about Barbrey, and you both knew it.

You had to give it to Jorelle, unlike other northerners, she did know how to be subtle. A bitter smile twitched your lips as you put the bead down, then reached for a thin silver chain, pretending to direct your attention on it.

“I’m very southern,” you said, your voice silky. “That’s one of the many cultural differences, I’ve found. Northerners are quite direct about alliances or enmity, but back in the south, it’s more complex than that. We’re taught to keep some people close, precisely because of lack of trust.”

She raised her brows, staring at you as if the remark had taken her by surprise.

“Ah,” she said after a beat, pressing her lips into a thin line. “I see.”

“My lady!” Wylla called out, making you look over your shoulder to see her approach you with Lyra and Alys following her. “We’re finished. Shall we go back?”

You thought for a moment, then shrugged your shoulders.

“Let’s stay a while longer,” you said, linking your arm through hers to lead her to the nearest stall. “I have plans for some of my cloaks, and I am in a desperate need of some beads.”

Much to your displeasure, you couldn’t see Robb for the rest of the day. He had been with his father and the king in the Wolfswood the entire day, and they hadn’t returned to the castle during dinner either, because of the king’s request to have their dinner in the woods like he and Lord Stark used to whenever they went hunting in their youth.

At least that was the explanation Robb mumbled into your ear when he joined you in bed at dawn, waking you up with kisses instead of going to sleep himself. At first you had assumed he would be too tired, especially after having spent the whole night in the woods, but you were soon proven wrong.

There were many things, you had found, that you loved when it came to marital bed. The act itself was pleasurable beyond words, Robb always made sure you enjoyed it every single time, unlike what that lady of the night had told you back in the Reach. You hadn’t even thought it possible before, but it made you fall in love with him even more, your heart so full of him that it sometimes made you worry whether there would be room for anything else. You enjoyed his kisses, his touch, his weight upon you, and how he made you feel before and during, and after.

That was one of your favorite parts as well.

After.

How he held you until your trembling passed, with chaste kisses and the sweetest praises that made your stomach flutter happily. Even now, while you tried to catch your breath with his arm around you that pressed you tight against his chest, you felt half delirious, all thoughts but him shattered to different corners in your mind, impossible to put back together. He pressed a kiss on your damp forehead, his other hand brushing back your hair before he dipped his head and his lips found yours. You couldn’t decide if the fire that colored his cheeks was because of the heat of the room or the chase of pleasure more; a sheen of sweat making him glow under the sunlight spilling through the thin curtains around the bed. His curly auburn hair was a mess in the most handsome way, and the light in his eyes was so soft that you could swear your heart melted when he looked down at you with a fond smile, awakening your own.

You felt tired, and sore, and sticky all over, but most of all; completely and utterly happy.

“What are you thinking about?” you whispered while your fingertips traced his chest up and down, light as a feather.

“How pretty you are,” he said, the northern accent in his deep voice drawing a giddy giggle out of you before you brushed your lips against his.

“Right answer,” you said. “Especially after spending a whole day away from me.”

“It wasn’t by choice,” he grumbled. “I considered sneaking back into the castle like a common thief, more than once.”

The image his words conjured up in your mind was too funny for you to hold back your laughter. “Really?”

“My beautiful wife was in our bed waiting for me, and I was in the woods with a bunch of men.”

“But you were hunting,” you told him. “You love hunting.”

“Lamb, I promise you, there’s nothing I love more than this.” He motioned at your naked body, making you scrunch up your nose in embarrassment. “I was all but taken hostage. Just because the king doesn’t want to go back to his wife doesn’t mean he should assume the rest of us share that sentiment.”

…Was that—?

Was that Robb gossiping?

“Did he say that?”

“No, but he said something else while drunk,” he answered with a grimace, making your jaw drop. “I will not repeat those words to you, but he dislikes her even more than you assume.”

Very well, there was room for improvement there.

Not everyone could be a natural like you and Margaery, you’d teach him how to gossip in time.

“The queen drinks too,” you said. “I noticed it at the feast, and tonight’s dinner as well. Too much wine.”

“Might be the only thing they have in common.”

“Not the only thing, because she doesn’t like him either,” you said. “Have I told you the other night at the feast, she tried to give me advise, and then she said…”

“Hm?”

“She said she hopes we’ll be as happy as her and the king.”

Robb flicked his gaze up for a second with a scoff, the gesture so similar to the way you rolled your eyes whenever you were annoyed.

“She can keep hoping,” he said. “Seven hells, I can’t wait until they all leave.”

“But you don’t think—” You paused. “Do you think it was like that always?”

“What do you mean?”

“She’s rather bitter, and all my ladies-in-waiting have many ideas about the reason. The queen had a lot of admirers when she was young, and Lyra has this theory that when one who’s used to compliments grows old…” you trailed off. “I don’t believe time takes away beauty, but I don’t want to be bitter like that when I grow old.”

His fingertips traced shapes on your bare skin. “You won’t.”

“It worried me all day today.”

“It shouldn’t have.”

“But perhaps she wasn’t like that either at first, because—”

“You couldn’t be bitter if you tried, it’s not in you.” The corners of his mouth curled, the glint in his eye making you blink up at him in confusion. “And I would know, I was just in you.”

A gasp left you and you pushed at his shoulder, heat sweeping over your face like a firestorm.

“I’m talking about something of importance!” you whined when he caught your wrist, his laugh echoing in the room. “And you’re making jests—”

“I know, I know, I’m sorry,” he cooed, though that mischievous smile of his betrayed the gentle tone of his voice. “I’m sorry. Come here.”

He pulled you to himself while you pouted at him, your brows knitted together in defiance. He bit back his grin, the pad of his thumb smoothing over the pinch of your frown before he cradled your cheek, his lips finding yours. That familiar warmth dripped down and down, a half sigh hitching in your throat as the kiss deepened, melting away your frustration along with every other thought that was plaguing your mind. Your eyes fluttered open when he nudged your nose with his, then pressed a kiss on the corner of your mouth, coaxing a giggle out of you.

“Jesting aside,” he said, the pleasant rumble of his voice vibrating under your palm resting on his chest. “It shouldn’t have worried you.”

“But what if you—”

“It shouldn’t have worried you, because there will never come a time when I look at you and not forget to breathe.”

Whatever you were going to say disappeared somewhere between your mind and your mouth while you gazed up at him, painfully aware of the lovesick smile on your face.

“And also,” he added, idly playing with your hair. “I meant it when I said you couldn’t if you tried. Your heart is too soft to be anything like her.”

That made your smile falter. You bit inside your cheek in deep thought, and when you spoke, your voice was almost too low to hear in the already quiet room:

“Everyone says life has a way of hardening hearts.”

He ran his knuckles down your spine as if trying to assure you.

“You entrusted me with yours to safekeep,” he murmured. “I will protect it from harm, for as long as I draw breath. Such fears will never come true, I promise.”

Tears rushed to your eyes out of nowhere but you blinked them away fast, desperate to swallow the lump in your throat. You captured his lips with yours, his hand slipping to your jaw to tilt your head, but you were both pulled out of the haze when someone pounded on the door, making you recoil in his arms.

“What?” Robb snapped at whoever it was behind the door. “What is it?”

It took you only a second to understand something was wrong.

Robb’s eyes fluttered open and he squinted at you, the sight of his messy auburn curls making your chest all warm.

“What time is it?” he rasped out and you shrugged.

“Early. It’s rather rude of him, is it not? He ignored her in front of everyone when they first got here. And then at the feast too.”

“Why are you—”

“And not only did he ignore her, he also humiliated her at the feast, in front of people!” you insisted. “Does he not like her at all, do you think?”

“You woke up at this hour to gossip?”

“We barely talked last night,” you whined, your shoulders dropping in defeat while he smirked.

“We were too busy to talk.”

“But I wanted to talk!” you insisted. “And now that you’re awake—”

“I’m not awake.” He threw his arm around your torso to pull you to his chest, coaxing a giggle out of you as you propped yourself up on your elbows.

“Is it not strange?” you asked. “I mean when they wed, everyone agreed that she was the most—” You shook him, making him groan again. “Robb, I don’t think you’re listening!”

“Gods be good…”

“Has your father said anything about them?”

“No.”

“How come you—” A squeal escaped you when he squeezed your butt still half asleep, but you reached back to grab his wrist. “Not now, focus! Why didn’t you ask?”

“Why would I ask?”

You rolled your eyes.

“I swear I will never understand men,” you grumbled. “How are you not curious? He doesn’t like her, it’s very surprising.”

“Is it?” he asked with a yawn and opened his eyes, then ran a hand over his face as if trying to get rid of the haze of sleep. “Of course he doesn’t like her, she’s not pleasant at all.”

“Maybe not to other people, but she probably was pleasant to him at least at first,” you said. “She must have tried. There is no way she did not.”

“I suppose sometimes it just doesn’t work.”

“Her family is powerful,” you insisted, counting with your fingers, “she’s beautiful, educated, fashionable—”

A chuckle escaped him. “I don’t think the king cares much about fashion.”  

“It helps still,” you commented. “I don’t know, the realm thinks she’s everything a queen is expected to be. And they have three children together, one would assume…”

“Hm?”

“How did he not eventually fall in love with her?”

He folded an arm under his head. “Maybe his love for Aunt Lyanna does not let him love anyone else.”

“It is rather odd, how every man has a different reaction to being left behind,” you muttered, heaving a sigh as you rested your chin on his chest, absentmindedly tracing his muscles. “The king wed and fathered children, but he still loves your aunt. And my father never recovered after my mother. No mistresses or wife, even though everyone kept pressuring him. It makes me wonder what she would think. Or what your aunt would think had she lived.”

If you hadn’t been so lost in your own thoughts, you would’ve noticed the silence falling upon the room, or his body tensing up.

“I guess there’s a reason why so many love ballads are sad,” you mused. “Heartbreak one way or another. That might be the one thing years cannot take away.”

He was so quiet that for half a minute you were convinced he had fallen asleep again. Yet, his deep voice that rumbled in his chest and vibrated underneath your palm didn’t sound sleepy at all when he finally spoke, the stern command almost taking you by surprise.

“You’re not allowed to do that.”

You lifted your head to blink up at him.

“Do what?”

“You’re not allowed to die before me.”   

You couldn’t stop your chortle. “Robb…”

“I’m serious. You cannot.”

“When it comes to longevity, the gods seem to favor men more,” you couldn’t help but point out. “Men die in battle in wartime. Women die in childbirth regardless of war or peace.”

His eyes found yours.

“Is that what you fear?” he asked quietly and you pinched your lips, trying to pick the right words.

“I don’t think fear is the right word for it,” you ended up saying. “I’m no fool, I know what happened to my mother was largely related to the very short time between the twins’ birth and mine.”

Silas and Arys had told you that. Upon hearing your septa talking about how motherhood came with a price and the childbirth was the ultimate sacrifice, Silas had said fuck off to her face, making you burst into laughter even with the fear churning your stomach.

“My sister will not be sacrificed just so that some prick somewhere can have an heir,” Silas had spat. “And she will be educated to minimize the danger. Stop filling her head with nonsense, unless you want my father to release you of your duties.”

Arys had been the one to tell you all about it; how it was of importance that one’s body was given enough time to rest.

“When you wed,” he had told you, “you’ll have many herbs at your disposal. We’re not letting you wed anyone who you might not like, but regardless of how much you might like your future husband, you are putting your own health first. Always. No babe is more important than you, and you’re not making the same mistake mother and father did. You will only have kids when you’re ready, and they will have at least 3 years between them, not like us.”

“We won’t…” Robb started, then paused and shook his head. “I would never put you through that.”

Nor were you going to put yourself through that. You were going to be very careful and take nothing for granted, because you knew how it went for your mother; she’d had such easy childbirths until you, and each time she had bounced back so fast that both she and your father were convinced nothing bad would happen.

So the gods had decided to prove to them otherwise.

“No,” you said in an attempt to sound more confident than you felt, willing yourself not to think about Arrana’s bad wish. “It won’t be like that for me.”

But there was still that danger.

Even if you did everything right, there was still that danger, for you and for every woman in the realm.

However, Robb was never going to hear that from you, not even with a blade to your throat. He wasn’t going to hear that, your own family wasn’t going to hear that, none of the Starks were going to hear that, none of your ladies-in-waiting or your maids were going to hear that.

The only person whom you had shared those concerns with was Margaery, and it was going to stay that way.

“Nothing bad is going to happen to me,” you added, desperate to disperse the gloomy air that felt almost suffocating around you. “Besides, no use worrying about any of that, only the gods know these things. Look at your own mother, she’s very healthy and she’s had five children so far—”

He pulled his brows together, confusion snapping him out of his own thoughts. “So far?”

Of course it worked.

“Well yes.” You shrugged your shoulders. “So far. You never know, they’re both still young—”

From the grimace twisting his handsome face, one would’ve thought you had spoken of something utterly unacceptable.

“Seven hells, don’t say that!”

A burst of laughter escaped you. “Robb, my love, I don’t know how to tell you this, but the fact that you have four other siblings—”

“That happened in the past!”

“Rickon is still little,” you argued. “And your mother and father are in love, anyone could see that. It’s normal!”

“It’s not normal,” he said, still grimacing while he motioned at the door. “He loves her from…from afar.”

“Mm, from up close. Very close, I’d say, because five kids is no duty—”

“From a respectable distance.”

“No to that also.”

He made a noise of disgust. “Can we stop talking about this? They’re too old to have a babe.”

“They’re not too old.”

“Fine, I’m too old to have a sibling,” he said, your laughter bouncing off the walls. “And I refuse to believe they would betray me like that.”

“Oh, such betrayal,” you said in an exaggerated manner, a hand on your chest. “Disaster, if you will.”

“Aye, it would be.”

You rolled your eyes at him while his gaze darted over your face, a frown pinching his forehead again.

“But you’ll be—” He swallowed thickly. “You’ll be fine, when…” 

He didn’t need to finish his sentence, you knew exactly what he was referring to. You turned your bracelet around your wrist, heaving a dramatic sigh.

“How about this?” you said. “You give me your word that you won’t die in war, and I’ll give you my word that nothing will happen to me in childbirth. That’s called diplomacy, if you’re too northern to recognize such concept.”

That managed to make him huff out a chuckle, though the haunted look in his eyes didn’t disappear, not completely. He nodded after a beat, reaching out to cradle your cheek in his palm.

“Very well,” he said. “I give you my word. Do you?”

You lifted yourself a little to brush your lips against his, his hand slipping from your cheek to the side of your neck. His other arm snaked around your waist to press you to his body, butterflies erupting in your stomach.

“I do,” you said, a smile warming your face. “See? Who said the north and the south can’t negotiate?”

All your ladies-in-waiting agreed that the queen had to have grown bitter in time, perhaps because of her husband, perhaps because of her responsibilities, and perhaps because she had fewer admirers now than when she first wed the king. You didn’t know the reason, nor did you say too much out loud, but you were more than aware that she did not look happy at any time, with the exception of when she was talking to her brother.

Well, one of them, at least. Her other brother, Tyrion had arrived in Winterfell nearing the end of last night’s feast, having spent the whole day in a brothel in Wintertown, so if you had to guess, he was going to get along well with Theon.

Robb was busy throughout the afternoon, and so were you. While he went on a hunt with his father and the king, you and some of your ladies-in-waiting were tasked with taking baskets of food and herbs to Wintertown per Lady Stark’s orders. As much as you liked going to Wintertown, you still wondered whether there were no servants left in the castle to do this exact task, but you managed to keep your mouth shut.

She was probably making sure everyone in Wintertown had seen you and talked to you, and this was a good way to make sure of that.

Or perhaps she was trying to keep you out of the queen’s sight after that little exchange of yours the other night, that could’ve been the reason as well.

Alys, Lyra and Wylla had gone into the other street, leaving you with Barbrey and Jorelle. It had taken you a much shorter time to give the baskets to all the houses you were supposed to visit, so now you were waiting for the others while you explored the market, making small talk with vendors as Barbrey and Jorelle trailed after you. This was yet another instance that you couldn’t help but note was different in here, because back in the south, the vendors sold many different types of jewelry seeing that it was popular among noble ladies. In the north, rather than jewelry, women embroidered their gowns with beads and intricate pieces of bronze, copper and ivory.

Perhaps you could use some of those on your cloaks at least.

“…And my cousin will visit Winterfell with her lord husband, and she’ll die when she sees me,” Barbrey chattered. “I doubt she believed me when I wrote to her to tell her I’m a lady-in-waiting. I’m planning to get a new gown and embroider it by the time she visits, she’ll be so jealous!”

You accidentally exchanged glances with Jorelle who looked like she was trying her hardest to keep herself from rolling her eyes at Barbrey.

“Her wedding was two years ago, and she had the audacity to criticize what I wore to it. And let me tell you, her wedding gown wasn’t so impressive either! Her lord husband is of House Flint, and her gown had eyes all over it, it looked so weird.”

You raised your brows. “Her gown had eyes?”

“House Flint’s words are Ever Vigilant,” Jorelle explained, “and their banner has a pair of eyes on it.”

“And it looked like she was wearing the banner itself,” Barbrey added. “Let’s see whose gown is better now. And also, if I may, I’m sure I’ll make a better marriage now that I’m—”

“Barbrey, did you see that vendor over there?” Jorelle cut her off. “I think they have more colorful beads over there, they’d look good on your purple gown.”

“You’re right!” Barbrey gasped. “My lady, may I—?”

“Please go ahead,” you said a bit quicker than intended, but Barbrey was too excited to notice that. She rushed to the stall Jorelle was pointing at, and Jorelle let out a breath.

“There. Some peace and quiet.”

You bit back a smile. “Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it.”

 You sometimes wondered whether you would’ve been able to get along well with Jorelle if it weren’t for her family and her whole almost betrothal with Robb. She probably held some resentment for you, and you still felt rather threatened by her. Despite that, sometimes she reminded you of Margaery with the calm air around her that made it nearly impossible to see through her, but you cast the thought away from your mind, forcing yourself to look at the beads on the tray.

“These look nice,” you commented as you approached the counter. “Are you good at embroidery, Jorelle?”

She shrugged her shoulders. “Not my absolute favorite, but yes.”

“What is your absolute favorite?”

“I like riding.”

Right.

Of course she liked riding.

“So do I,” you said, taking a couple of bronze pieces into your palm to inspect them. “Silk is faster than my horses back in the Reach, but I’m getting used to such speed.”

“Your brother gifted her to you, did he not?”

“Yes. Cliff.”

She stole a look at you.

“And you’re close with all your brothers?”

“Mm hm. Well, Silas is the one I’m closest with, and then the twins. Arys and Cliff left home quite early, so I see them very rarely. Mostly on my namedays and such.” You lifted your gaze from the pieces in your hand. “I think you’ve talked to Perceon?”

Jorelle blinked a couple of times, her cheeks betraying her nonchalant demeanor when they turned pink.

“Yes,” she said, making herself busy with the beads. “He was—he is very southern.”

“Dornish, more like.”

 A silence fell upon you and Jorelle nibbled on her lip, her eyes falling on Barbrey before turning to you.

“Can I ask you something?”

You put the bronze pieces back and grabbed a particularly shiny bead. “Of course.”

“Why did you…” she trailed off. “Why did you choose her to be among your ladies-in-waiting? After what Arrana has said?”

That question wasn’t about Barbrey, and you both knew it.

You had to give it to Jorelle, unlike other northerners, she did know how to be subtle. A bitter smile twitched your lips as you put the bead down, then reached for a thin silver chain, pretending to direct your attention on it.

“I’m very southern,” you said, your voice silky. “That’s one of the many cultural differences, I’ve found. Northerners are quite direct about alliances or enmity, but back in the south, it’s more complex than that. We’re taught to keep some people close, precisely because of lack of trust.”

She raised her brows, staring at you as if the remark had taken her by surprise.

“Ah,” she said after a beat, pressing her lips into a thin line. “I see.”

“My lady!” Wylla called out, making you look over your shoulder to see her approach you with Lyra and Alys following her. “We’re finished. Shall we go back?”

You thought for a moment, then shrugged your shoulders.

“Let’s stay a while longer,” you said, linking your arm through hers to lead her to the nearest stall. “I have plans for some of my cloaks, and I am in a desperate need of some beads.”

Much to your displeasure, you couldn’t see Robb for the rest of the day. He had been with his father and the king in the Wolfswood the entire day, and they hadn’t returned to the castle during dinner either, because of the king’s request to have their dinner in the woods like he and Lord Stark used to whenever they went hunting in their youth.

At least that was the explanation Robb mumbled into your ear when he joined you in bed at dawn, waking you up with kisses instead of going to sleep himself. At first you had assumed he would be too tired, especially after having spent the whole night in the woods, but you were soon proven wrong.

There were many things, you had found, that you loved when it came to marital bed. The act itself was pleasurable beyond words, Robb always made sure you enjoyed it every single time, unlike what that lady of the night had told you back in the Reach. You hadn’t even thought it possible before, but it made you fall in love with him even more, your heart so full of him that it sometimes made you worry whether there would be room for anything else. You enjoyed his kisses, his touch, his weight upon you, and how he made you feel before and during, and after.

That was one of your favorite parts as well.

After.

How he held you until your trembling passed, with chaste kisses and the sweetest praises that made your stomach flutter happily. Even now, while you tried to catch your breath with his arm around you that pressed you tight against his chest, you felt half delirious, all thoughts but him shattered to different corners in your mind, impossible to put back together. He pressed a kiss on your damp forehead, his other hand brushing back your hair before he dipped his head and his lips found yours. You couldn’t decide if the fire that colored his cheeks was because of the heat of the room or the chase of pleasure more; a sheen of sweat making him glow under the sunlight spilling through the thin curtains around the bed. His curly auburn hair was a mess in the most handsome way, and the light in his eyes was so soft that you could swear your heart melted when he looked down at you with a fond smile, awakening your own.

You felt tired, and sore, and sticky all over, but most of all; completely and utterly happy.

“What are you thinking about?” you whispered while your fingertips traced his chest up and down, light as a feather.

“How pretty you are,” he said, the northern accent in his deep voice drawing a giddy giggle out of you before you brushed your lips against his.

“Right answer,” you said. “Especially after spending a whole day away from me.”

“It wasn’t by choice,” he grumbled. “I considered sneaking back into the castle like a common thief, more than once.”

The image his words conjured up in your mind was too funny for you to hold back your laughter. “Really?”

“My beautiful wife was in our bed waiting for me, and I was in the woods with a bunch of men.”

“But you were hunting,” you told him. “You love hunting.”

“Lamb, I promise you, there’s nothing I love more than this.” He motioned at your naked body, making you scrunch up your nose in embarrassment. “I was all but taken hostage. Just because the king doesn’t want to go back to his wife doesn’t mean he should assume the rest of us share that sentiment.”

…Was that—?

Was that Robb gossiping?

“Did he say that?”

“No, but he said something else while drunk,” he answered with a grimace, making your jaw drop. “I will not repeat those words to you, but he dislikes her even more than you assume.”

Very well, there was room for improvement there.

Not everyone could be a natural like you and Margaery, you’d teach him how to gossip in time.

“The queen drinks too,” you said. “I noticed it at the feast, and tonight’s dinner as well. Too much wine.”

“Might be the only thing they have in common.”

“Not the only thing, because she doesn’t like him either,” you said. “Have I told you the other night at the feast, she tried to give me advise, and then she said…”

“Hm?”

“She said she hopes we’ll be as happy as her and the king.”

Robb flicked his gaze up for a second with a scoff, the gesture so similar to the way you rolled your eyes whenever you were annoyed.

“She can keep hoping,” he said. “Seven hells, I can’t wait until they all leave.”

“But you don’t think—” You paused. “Do you think it was like that always?”

“What do you mean?”

“She’s rather bitter, and all my ladies-in-waiting have many ideas about the reason. The queen had a lot of admirers when she was young, and Lyra has this theory that when one who’s used to compliments grows old…” you trailed off. “I don’t believe time takes away beauty, but I don’t want to be bitter like that when I grow old.”

His fingertips traced shapes on your bare skin. “You won’t.”

“It worried me all day today.”

“It shouldn’t have.”

“But perhaps she wasn’t like that either at first, because—”

“You couldn’t be bitter if you tried, it’s not in you.” The corners of his mouth curled, the glint in his eye making you blink up at him in confusion. “And I would know, I was just in you.”

A gasp left you and you pushed at his shoulder, heat sweeping over your face like a firestorm.

“I’m talking about something of importance!” you whined when he caught your wrist, his laugh echoing in the room. “And you’re making jests—”

“I know, I know, I’m sorry,” he cooed, though that mischievous smile of his betrayed the gentle tone of his voice. “I’m sorry. Come here.”

He pulled you to himself while you pouted at him, your brows knitted together in defiance. He bit back his grin, the pad of his thumb smoothing over the pinch of your frown before he cradled your cheek, his lips finding yours. That familiar warmth dripped down and down, a half sigh hitching in your throat as the kiss deepened, melting away your frustration along with every other thought that was plaguing your mind. Your eyes fluttered open when he nudged your nose with his, then pressed a kiss on the corner of your mouth, coaxing a giggle out of you.

“Jesting aside,” he said, the pleasant rumble of his voice vibrating under your palm resting on his chest. “It shouldn’t have worried you.”

“But what if you—”

“It shouldn’t have worried you, because there will never come a time when I look at you and not forget to breathe.”

Whatever you were going to say disappeared somewhere between your mind and your mouth while you gazed up at him, painfully aware of the lovesick smile on your face.

“And also,” he added, idly playing with your hair. “I meant it when I said you couldn’t if you tried. Your heart is too soft to be anything like her.”

That made your smile falter. You bit inside your cheek in deep thought, and when you spoke, your voice was almost too low to hear in the already quiet room:

“Everyone says life has a way of hardening hearts.”

He ran his knuckles down your spine as if trying to assure you.

“You entrusted me with yours to safekeep,” he murmured. “I will protect it from harm, for as long as I draw breath. Such fears will never come true, I promise.”

Tears rushed to your eyes out of nowhere but you blinked them away fast, desperate to swallow the lump in your throat. You captured his lips with yours, his hand slipping to your jaw to tilt your head, but you were both pulled out of the haze when someone pounded on the door, making you recoil in his arms.

“What?” Robb snapped at whoever it was behind the door. “What is it?”

It took you only a second to understand something was wrong.